The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(73)

People would kill for what he was, the power of the Samyad blood in his veins, if they knew.

She had thought of him a few times since the drought had started, the Samyad boy who had been one of her first true friends, but she had thought him dead. And his blood dead with him.

He said nothing. Not then and not during the journey. It was as if the turning had caused all the fire, and speech apparently, to go out of him. Esha waited, trying to be patient and give him time to process.

They arrived in the clearing and Rakesh was where they had left him, still unconscious, the waist sash tight against his wound. Kunal caught her by the shoulders, stopping her before she could reach him.

Kunal turned her around to face him, taking her hands in his own. They were battered and cut up where his claws had been, much like her own. He winced as he saw the deep punctures he had left as he had turned.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. She tilted her head.

“Kunal—”

“How was I to know? I believed my uncle. Every word, every lie. I know so much more now, but I still feel as if I know nothing. I cannot possibly be a royal, even a bastard, yet when I turned I felt free, Esha,” he said, his voice breaking.

“You need to leave,” she said. The hurt in his eyes was almost too much for her. “The rebels are on their way and after that commotion, they’ll know exactly where we are.”

“I’m not leaving you. And I still have so many questions.”

“Go live your life, soldier. Be free. If you stay here you will become a prisoner. In more than one way.”

“Esha, I—”

Everything she touched turned to dust as the Viper. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

Esha shoved him away from her, pushed his dragging feet into the brush, his already torn clothes catching on branches.

“Go!” she hissed.

She picked up the sheathed knife of his that had fallen to the ground and hurtled it at him. He ducked and caught it easily, his eyes turning dark.

A rustle breezed through the leaves and branches behind her, and Esha froze.

And a voice she hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Need some help there, Viper?”

The rebels had arrived.





Chapter 48


Kunal looked at her in confusion, hearing the voice seconds after her head snapped around. He recoiled as it hit him.

The rebels.

He didn’t have much time to think. His feet took off toward the forest, but he didn’t get far before an arrow punctured his bicep and a bundle of limbs and clothes shot out from behind Esha and flew into him, tackling him to the ground.

The burly boy flying at him landed a hard blow to the side of Kunal’s head and the world around him danced in black spots.

Esha’s voice sounded like a cloud, distant and far away. “Stop! Bhandu, stop it. I don’t need your help.”

Kunal tried to lift his head only to be smacked back down into the forest ground. His teeth chattered in his skull and the black spots returned, accompanied by purple and blue bursts of color. Lines of pain ran down his back where his wings had been and the rocks dug into them, making him grit his teeth in agony.

He didn’t try to lift his head again, rolling it to the side so he had a better line of sight. Two archers but they looked the same.

Was he seeing double? No, twins. They were lined up behind Esha and she was fighting with someone he couldn’t see.

Kunal flicked his eyes up, trying to stay still and keep the pain at bay.

The boy on top of him had pinned him with massive hands that were tattooed up to his wrists. A Jansan brand for war prisoners—only administered by soldiers.

Kunal sensed the danger he was in, and it tasted like metal and rust, blood coating the inside of his mouth. He coughed, sputtering out a trail of blood.

“You’ll be fine, pretty eyes,” the boy on top of him said, squinting at him curiously. “What were you doing having a knife thrown at your head by our Viper?”

Kunal said nothing.

The boy’s eyes raked over his face. “No surprise at hearing that she’s the Viper. That’s dangerous.” He leaned in close, whispering in his ear. “No one knows the identity of our lovely lady without forfeiting their life.” The boy’s face broke into a broad grin. “That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll kill you, though.”

Kunal merely stared at the boy, unable to respond even if he had wanted to. The wound in his arm had started burning and he bit on his tongue to dull the pain. The boy chuckled, fingering the edges of the sheathed knife in Kunal’s belt.

“Nice knife. Even though it’s Jansan made.” He began inspecting the rest of Kunal’s body and outfit, making comments. Kunal ignored him, straining to hear Esha’s conversation in the background. It was faint, but Kunal could make it out.

“I had it under control.” Esha’s voice was tight.

“Really?” The sardonic reply was in a man’s voice, deep and lilting. “We were checking the eastern part of the jungle when we heard a huge noise here and turned around. Good thing we did.”

“Do you not see the soldier on the ground, bleeding out? I can take care of myself.”

“I see that. I also saw another man that you were standing pretty close to. You know we’ll have to kill him. He’s seen too much at this point, which is regrettable.” He paused. “You normally would have done that yourself. We’ll keep this soldier to question, but get rid of the man Bhandu is holding down.” Footsteps moved toward him, getting louder by the second.